


Disconnect

by Shaples



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Drunk Texting, First Dates, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Off-screen Relationship(s), Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 20:32:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7121518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaples/pseuds/Shaples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haruna Motoki is the last person in the world anyone should ever turn to for romantic advice, but he's all Abe's got - and if Abe is finally going to muster up the courage to tell Mihashi how he really feels about him, he's going to need all the help he can get.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disconnect

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hawberries](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawberries/gifts).



> Yet again, I have found my muse in pheonee. Inspired by [this](http://sapphicdalliances.tumblr.com/post/134577383770). Written for Oofuri Ship Week Day 2: Texting.

> Me: Nice day out.
> 
> Me: Wanna go for a run before we hit the gym?
> 
> Haruna: Jesus
> 
> Haruna: You don’t even realize you’re doing it, do you?
> 
> Me: What?
> 
> Haruna: Look at the picture you just sent me

Abe thumbed through his texts to look at the picture and frowned.

> Me: It’s a nice day???
> 
> Haruna: Yeah, beautiful.
> 
> Haruna: Clear skies
> 
> Haruna: Open outfield
> 
> Haruna: Sun shining on the baseball diamond
> 
> Haruna: And Mihashi Ren on the mound
> 
> Haruna: Caught in a halo of early morning sunlight
> 
> Haruna: Mid windup
> 
> Haruna: Great hair, nice ass
> 
> Haruna: Need I go on?

Abe thumbed back to the picture. Shit.

> Me: Are we going jogging this afternoon or not?
> 
> Haruna: Yeah, sure
> 
> Haruna: Meet you at the smoothie place
> 
> Haruna: But you’re buying
> 
> Haruna: That was the 10th Spot-The-Mihashi pic in a row you sent me without noticing
> 
> Haruna: So I’m out $20
> 
> Haruna: Kyouhei’s gonna shit
> 
> Me: You had a bet going?
> 
> Haruna: Yeah, and I was pulling for you
> 
> Haruna: Don’t forget it
> 
> Haruna: See you at 5

* * *

“You’ve gotta make a move, Taka,” Haruna said, adding a few more weights to the bar on Abe’s bench press. “The kid’s come a long way since high school, but I’m pretty sure even if you got a shirt printed that said _I’m super gay for Mihashi Ren_ , he’d still second guess himself into a coma before he’d ask you out.”

“Can we not talk about this right now?” Abe asked, voice tight as he adjusted his grip on the bar and started his next set of reps.

“You can tell me to go away when you don’t need me to spot you anymore. Why not ask him out?”

“Don’t even know if he likes guys,” Abe bit out.

“You’ve known him, what, four years? Going on five? He’s never had a girlfriend.”

“No boyfriend either.”

“Neither have you, because you’ve been carrying a torch for him since your first year of high school.” Abe grunted, and Haruna pressed on, “And if Ren and Tajima haven’t done the do at least once, I’ll eat my- whoa, careful.” Haruna caught the weights as Abe’s arms wavered.

As soon as they got the weights re-racked, Abe sat up and wiped the sweat off his face with his shirt. “Leave it alone, Motoki.”

* * *

“I’m just saying,” Haruna said as they stepped out of the gym showers and made their way back to the lockers, “it’s not like the two of you don’t have _something_. It’s not every day a battery stays together as long as you have, even after winning nationals.”

“That doesn’t mean he wants to date me,” Abe said, for what felt like the thousandth time. “We just-”

“Know and trust each other intimately? Spend hours together every day? Passed up better offers so you could stay on the same team?”

“What do you want me to say, Motoki?”

“I want you to say you’ll ask him out.” Abe rolled his eyes, and Haruna said, “It doesn’t even have to be a date-date. Just invite him to come work out with us sometime, see how he reacts.”

Abe shook his head. “Bad idea.”

“Why?”

“The two of you will start gabbing away in your weird-ass pitcher-speak and groping each other’s muscles, and I don’t need to sit through that.”

“Because it kills your argument that he isn’t gay, or because you’re jealous?” Abe shot him a flat look, and Haruna held his hands up. “I’m just saying. Besides, you know he would totally do it to you if you let him. I mean, don’t let this go to your head, but you’ve gotten absolutely fucking ripped since you started taking out your sexual frustration on the free weights.”

“I’m not sexually frustrated.”

“Uh huh. What’s the real reason you won’t ask him to join us?”

Abe closed his locker and let his head thump against it. “I went running with him and Yuu once, and Ren was wearing these teeny, tiny, hot pink spandex running shorts. He should have looked like Richard Simmons, but he just…” he made a vague gesture with his hands. He’d been staring so hard he’d tripped on a curb and nearly sprained his ankle.

Haruna hummed sympathetically. “Was that the time you broke your personal for the deadlift?”

Abe whipped Haruna with his towel.

* * *

“Why are you doing this?” Abe snapped, after Haruna’s twelfth consecutive totally-casual, not-at-all-heavy-handed date idea.

Haruna heaved out a sigh and pressed his water bottle to his neck, looking out over the parking lot. “Honestly? Because I want you to be happy, and I wish someone had had the guts to tell me I was in love with Kyouhei before my dumb ass almost let him get away.” Abe wrinkled his nose. “Look, Taka, Ren is as hard-headed as you are, but I was only half joking about Tajima. If he and your old captain ever go off-again for good, I wouldn’t be surprised if-”

“Okay, fine!”

“Fine?”

“You win, I’ll. Fuck, I don’t know. I’ll ask him out.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Soon.”

“Tomorrow?”

“ _Fine_.”

* * *

> Me: you fucking shit faced asshole this is all your fault
> 
> Haruna: ???
> 
> Haruna: SHIT DID HE ACTUALLY SAY NO?!
> 
> Me: No, he said yes
> 
> Me: He aced the stats test I’ve been helping him study for and I suggested we go out for dinner to celebrate
> 
> Haruna: And this is… bad?
> 
> Me: I’m wearing a tie and a dress shirt and I’m an hour early and I want to crawl under the bar and die

There was a long pause. Then his phone rang. He let his forehead thunk against the bar as he put the phone to his ear. “What?”

“Taka, listen to me. Take the tie off. Do not drink anything but water.”

“Too late,” he muttered.

“Taka, you have an hour to sober up. Go splash some water on your face. Hydrate. Then find a quiet table in the back and play Candy Crush until he gets there.”

“I hate puzzle games.”

“I don’t care. And I’m not getting off the phone until you get up.” He was quiet for a moment, then, “Are you getting up?”

Abe groaned and heaved himself off the barstool.

* * *

He was on level 36 of Candy Crush when someone cleared their throat next to him. He jerked to attention, looking up from his phone, and found Mihashi standing right beside his table. He was wearing a wine colored knit turtleneck and slim-fitting, mustard yellow plaid pants. By all rights he should have looked like a complete disaster, but he was wearing the hell out of the outfit, the high neck of the shirt bringing out the sharp lines of his jaw, the colors surprisingly well-coordinated and flattering. It struck Abe, hard, that he’d almost never seen Mihashi in anything but a baseball uniform, workout clothes, or a baggy shirt and gym shorts. And that sweater fit him really, really well. He didn’t let himself think too hard about the change. “You’re here,” he said stupidly.

Mihashi gave a small nod, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “Sorry I’m late.”

“No, not at all. I just got here myself,” he said automatically. Mihashi raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at his lips as he cast a significant glance toward the three empty water glasses, half-eaten basket of bread, and pile of crumpled napkins on the table. “Er, I mean, I haven’t been waiting long. Sit?”

Mihashi took the seat across from him, rosy and beautiful and not quite meeting his gaze, and oh god. This was a date. That single thought rattled around in the sudden cavernous emptiness of his mind. What the hell did people talk about on dates? What the hell did he and _Mihashi_ talk about that wasn’t baseball, or school, or… baseball. Jesus, did they ever talk about anything but baseball? Had they ever, in all the years they’d known each other, talked about anything other than-

“I’ve never been here before,” Mihashi said, peeking around at the decor. “It’s cute. I like the lights,” he added, pointing up at the strings of fairy lights that crisscrossed the low ceiling.

Was Mihashi…? Mihashi was making small talk. Abe breathed out a sigh of relief that came out as half a laugh. “Yeah, it’s ah, it’s actually my favorite restaurant. I uh. They have really good weeknight specials, so I come here when I have to cram for a test. Pretty sure the staff hates me, though, because I always take up a table for hours.”

“You study here?” Mihashi asked.

“Yeah. It’s, well, a little too noisy for group sessions, but when I’m trying to memorize stats-” Don’t talk about baseball. “-or whatever, it’s a nice backdrop. I always stake out the one real light in the place,” he added, gesturing over his shoulder to the lonely sconce on the wall.

Mihashi smiled. “This is your table?”

He laughed, ducking his head. “Yeah, I suppose it is. Not like it has my name on it or anything, but if I get here early enough I try to nab it.”

“I always feel, uhm, like people are… watching,” Mihashi said, pushing his sleeves up around his elbows and fidgeting with one of the cuffs. “When I study in, in public, I mean.” He dipped his head. Seemed to notice what he was doing. Leaned forward on the table, gripping his elbows. “But you already know that.”

“It took me the longest time to work out why you hated studying at the library so much.”

Mihashi bit his lip. “Sorry.”

“No, I hated it, too. It’s like working in a tomb.”

Mihashi reached out and started fiddling with the little tea light in the center of the table. “I must drive you crazy. Uhm, with the… quiet.”

“What? No,” Abe said, horrified by the mere suggestion. “No, I love…” What, exactly? Sitting quietly with Mihashi, reading, legs bumped together under the table, sharing a plate of snacks and a pot of tea, the smell of Mihashi’s hair when he leaned close to read over his shoulder, the way he listened, really _listened_ when Abe was talking. “I love our study sessions. I know we see each other basically every day, but I look forward to you coming over all week.” Mihashi’s eyes widened a little, and Abe added quickly, “Quiet is nice, when it’s with you.”

Mihashi picked at the bubbly surface of the glass candle holder with his thumbnail. “I’m glad I’m not… Nn, I’m glad you like it, too. I know I’m not smart, and-”

“You’re _brilliant_ , Ren.” Mihashi’s nose crinkled, and he made the soft, exasperated sound that meant he wasn’t finished talking. “Sorry. What were you going to say?”

“I know I’m not stupid, but. I’m not… smart. And,” he pursed his lips. “You say it helps you study, too, but. You’re _so_ smart. And… thoughtful? And it’s a lot of time, and I.” He stopped, looked up, “I’m happy you spend it… with me.”

The careful sincerity of Mihashi’s words and the steady weight of his gaze left Abe feeling vaguely concussed, like he’d gotten hit in the head with a stray ball. Which is probably why he said, “There’s no one else I’d rather be with.” Mihashi sucked in a surprised breath, but there was absolutely nothing Abe could think to say to take back or tone down the words that had just fallen out of his mouth, to make them sound like anything less than the confession they were, because it was _true_ , honest in a way that only the stupid shit that you say without thinking can be. His face was on _fire_.

“So what can I get you two to drink?”

Abe tore his eyes away from Mihashi and looked up at the waitress, who had evidently materialized in the space next to him. “Huh?”

“Drinks?”

“Uh. Right,” Abe said, trying to shake off his embarrassment. “Uhm, Pale ale? Whatever’s on tap.”

The waitress nodded and turned to Mihashi, who cast a helpless glance at the untouched drinks menu in the center of the table before asking, “Can, uhm, a sakura martini?”

“Sure thing,” she said, setting two menus on the table. “Your server will be right with you.”

Once the waitress was out of earshot, Abe asked, “What’s a sakura martini?”

“Oh, uhm, it’s gin? And sake. With a flower, mostly. Sometimes a cherry?” Mihashi leaned forward on the table, arms crossed in front of him. “Everywhere makes them different, but. They’re always pretty. Pink, sometimes.”

“Huh. I’ve never heard of it.”

Mihashi waved his hands dismissively. “I just think it’s fun, to see. How they make it, I mean.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Abe said, sliding one of the menus across the table to Mihashi. “Like a surprise, sort of.”

Mihashi nodded, smiling warmly. “Exactly.”  He took the menu from Abe, but instead of opening it, he folded his arms on top of it and gave an inquisitive little tilt of his head. “So, what’s good here?”

* * *

Talking Mihashi through the highlights of the menu was strangely soothing, a familiar ritual in a new context. There was comfort in knowing things and sharing them with someone who didn’t, in watching the top of Mihashi’s head as he bent over the menu, like holding it closer to his face would make it easier to puzzle apart.

The waitress came back with their drinks before Mihashi could make up his mind. Abe started to tell her they needed more time, but Mihashi stopped him short and said, “You should order for me.”

Abe blinked. Sparks fizzled as something short circuited in his brain. “Huh?”

“It all sounds good, and. You know what I like, so.” Mihashi bit his lip and ducked his head.

Abe blinked, twice. Looked back at the menu. Realized he _did_ know exactly what Mihashi was about ten minutes away from deciding he wanted to order. So he ordered for both of them.

* * *

The drinks helped. Mihashi’s was pastel pink with a tiny sakura blossom floating in it, and by the time he was halfway through it, his cheeks had turned the exact same color and some of the tension had eased out of him. A pint and a half in himself, it struck Abe that this felt natural and normal – low lights and private corner and feet just touching under the table and all – and he leaned his chin on his hand, watching and nodding along as Mihashi launched into a story about his and Tajima’s latest misadventures with their nightmarish landlady. Mihashi was animated in the way he only was when they were alone, filling the gaps in his fragmented speech with hand gestures and funny faces and surprisingly apt impersonations. For the life of him, Abe couldn’t think why they hadn’t done this sooner.

When their food came, it was every bit as good as it always was, and better for the company – and Mihashi’s enthusiasm. The bar for “food Mihashi enjoys eating” had always been pretty low, but food he really loved was a whole different thing, and Mihashi attacked his plate with such messy gusto that Abe was pretty sure he’d chosen well. He was the one to fill the silence while they ate, prattling idly between bites about his Calc 2 professor, who had been trying to convince him to TA for her the following semester. “The money would be nice,” he concluded, “but I keep telling her I just don’t have the time.”

“You should do it,” Mihashi said around a mouthful of food. He held a hand in front of his lips as he swallowed, then added, “You’re a good teacher.”

Abe laughed. “I mean, I’m pretty sure she just wants someone competent to grade papers, not an actual _teaching_ assistant, but thank you. I’m glad you think so.”

Mihashi gave a quick shake of his head. “Without you I wouldn’t have. Nn. You’re the reason I passed my. statistics test.”

“You passed the test because you worked your ass off.”

Mihashi giggled, a happy little titter. “You _made_ me.”

“Well, I knew it was a hard test. And anyway I’m pretty sure you did better on it than I did when I took it.”

Mihashi crinkled his nose and squirmed, like he needed to wiggle around a little before the praise could find a comfortable place to settle inside him. “Only because you spent so much time. Helping me study.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself,” Abe said, nudging Mihashi’s foot with his own. “Besides, it was more than worth it to have an excuse to finally ask you out to dinner.”

Mihashi blinked up at him. “What?” He had a little smudge of sauce on his chin, and paired with his wide-eyed expression, it filled Abe with mingled fondness and nostalgia.

“We’re celebrating your test score, remember?” he prompted, reaching across the table to wipe Mihashi’s chin clean with his thumb. He licked the sauce off his hand and made a thoughtful sound. “That _is_ really good tonight.”

Mihashi coughed, pressing a napkin to his mouth.

Abe frowned. “You okay?”

Mihashi nodded, clearing his throat. “Yeah, uhm. I should,” he said, gesturing vaguely at his face. “Uh. Bathroom.”

“Oh, okay,” Abe said, sitting back as Mihashi stood up and hurried through the restaurant. He only realized he was watching him go when he disappeared into the bathroom, and _god_ he looked _amazing_ in those stupid pants. He picked his phone up from where he’d abandoned it face down on the table, closed Candy Crush, and started typing out a text to Haruna.

> Me: Okay this is definitely a date
> 
> Me: I dressed up and he dressed up and I’m a fucking idiot because we’re sitting in a private little table in the back and there are candles and fairy lights and I didn’t even do it on purpose
> 
> Me: I’m so fucking gay, Motoki
> 
> Me: He’s drinking this ridiculous pink booze and he’s so beautiful and I swear to god if I had a ring in my pocket I would get down on one knee and propose to him RIGHT NOW
> 
> Me: But neither of us have said the word “date” and how the fuck do you ask your best friend on a second date when neither of you are admitting you’re on your first one

When there was no immediate response, he kept typing.

> Me: I want to kiss him, Motoki
> 
> Me: I want to marry my pitcher
> 
> Me: I’m so in love
> 
> Me: What’s wrong with me
> 
> Me: When did this happen
> 
> Me: How did this happen

He startled a little when his phone buzzed in his hand.

> Haruna: Kyouhei says you should pay for Ren’s dinner
> 
> Haruna: Then offer to walk him home
> 
> Haruna: Also: 1) congrats 2) FINALLY 3) Kyouhei owes us drinks. How’s Saturday?
> 
> Me: Stop betting on my love life
> 
> Me: And tell your bf he’s a goddamn hero
> 
> Me: No plans on Saturday…. yet???
> 
> Haruna: Pfft. Good luck, buddy

He had just finished typing out a quick _Thanks_ when Mihashi sat back down at the table across from him. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Abe said, turning the phone off and setting it back down on the corner of the table. “Yeah, it was just Motoki checking in.”

“You two’ve been hanging out a lot lately,” Mihashi said, resting his chin on his hands.

Abe considered it for a moment, then shrugged. “Our coaches have really different philosophies, so it’s helpful to trade notes. He’s actually the one who gave me the ammo to help talk coach into adding more weightlifting to your training menu.” Mihashi wrinkled his nose in distaste, and Abe added, “And I talked him into doing yoga, when I told him how good it’s been for your flexibility.”

“Really?” Mihashi asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

Abe took a sip of his beer and nodded. “He only just started, but he likes it. I’ve been trying to convince him to go to Ruri’s studio. I bet she’d get a kick out of him.”

“She would-” he snickered, shaking his head. “Thought he was cute, in high school. Still watches his games, I think.”

“Her and everyone else,” Abe said, rolling his eyes.

“I thought, uhm,” Mihashi said, haltingly. “I didn’t. I know you made up? But. I didn’t think you were… friends?”

“Yeah, that…. It took a while. We actually fell out of touch after he graduated. I mean I followed his games or whatever, but we hadn’t talked in a long time. We probably still wouldn’t, but his-” He stopped himself, corrected, “You remember his old catcher? Akimaru? The one with the glasses?” Mihashi nodded. “He was in my PoliSci class last semester, and sort of…” He laughed. “Well, he sort of tricked us into talking to each other again. But it was good. We have more in common than I let myself admit in high school, and he’s a good workout partner.”

“You know,” Mihashi said with a mischievous quirk to his lips, “you _could_ work out with _me_.”

“Ha! And let you and Yuu run circles around me again while you drag me to the end of the earth? Me and my wounded pride are gonna stick with the treadmill, I think.” Mihashi stuck his lower lip out, pouting, and Abe laughed. “Besides, my apartment is way out of the way for your morning jog, and the two of you have been doing it so long, I’d probably just slow you down.”

“That just means you need to keep practicing,” Mihashi said, voice pitched down and brows furrowed in exaggerated sternness.

Abe coughed out a startled laugh, then crumpled up his napkin and threw it across the table at Mihashi. “I don’t sound like that.”

Mihashi cracked, stony face dissolving into giggles, and he nodded insistently. “You _do_.”

Abe crossed his arms over his chest, trying to look disapproving, but that just made Mihashi laugh harder, and Abe couldn’t quite manage to stop himself from smiling, and then laughing with him. Mihashi was still giggling breathlessly when the waitress came back and asked, “Did you two save room for dessert?”

“Uh, yeah,” Abe said, wiping a tear of laughter from his eye with the heel of his hand. “Can we get a slice of cheesecake, and two forks? With the chocolate sauce, not raspberry.”

“You’ve got it,” she said, then headed back toward the kitchen.

When she was gone, Abe realized that Mihashi had stopped laughing, and that he’d just ordered for them both again, this time without permission. He winced. “Sorry, I didn’t even ask. Should I call her back?”

“No, no, that’s-”

“I just. We always share at my house, and you always have room for dessert, and the cheesecake here is-”

“It’s okay, Taka,” Mihashi said, reaching across the table and taking his hand.

They’d held hands a million times, frequently enough and for long enough that he sometimes forgot that it wasn’t a thing that everyone did, a physical boundary that had become sort of ephemeral, stripped of any romantic context through casual repetition. But this wasn’t meditation, or baseball, or a panic attack, or a particularly challenging math problem. It was the two of them alone in a restaurant, Mihashi radiant in the low lighting, at a table tucked in a quiet corner, holding hands.

He turned his hand over in Mihashi’s, settling their palms together and stroking the back of Mihashi’s hand with his thumb. “Is this…?” But ‘is this okay?’ felt like putting too much weight on something that was not, ostensibly, anything actually out of the ordinary. He took a breath, squeezed Mihashi’s hand. “I’ve had a really, really nice time tonight.”

Mihashi ducked his head, hiding his face, and gripped Abe’s hand. “Me too.”

“Maybe we could-”

Mihashi jolted and jerked back, startled. Before Abe could question it, Mihashi chirped out an abrupt, “Sorry!” and shifted on his seat, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. His eyes went wide when he looked at the screen, and then he squeezed them shut, brow crinkling in distress. “Sorry,” he said again, then put the phone to his ear and said, “Hi, mom.” He was quiet for a moment, then, “No, I’m f-fine, I. No. Yes, I’m. Dinner. No. With T- Yes, with Abe-kun.”

The waitress came back with the cheesecake while Mihashi was still bent over his phone. “Can I get you anything else?” she asked quietly as she set the plate and two forks down on the table.

Abe shook his head. “Just the check, please.”

“Are you together or separate?”

“Ah, together.” She nodded, and he said, “Thanks.”

“Tomorrow, yes. At seven. I promise,” Mihashi said. “Okay? I know. I’m sorry. I love you, too. Okay, bye.” He hung up the phone and groaned, folding his arms on the table and collapsing on top of them.

“You alright?” Abe asked.

“I missed our weekly phone call,” Mihashi muttered into the crook of his elbow.

Abe frowned. “I’m sorry. I forgot it was tonight.”

“I did, too,” he said miserably. “Should have called to reschedule, but…” he trailed off into a groan.

“Was she really mad?”

Mihashi shook his head. “Just worried. She.” He huffed out a sigh. “I thought, because Mihoshi, she wouldn’t mind, but. Even with you, and Ruri, and Yuu, she still worries. Because the city.”

Abe hummed sympathetically, then said, “C’mon, this’ll make you feel better.”

Mihashi made a questioning sound, peeking up from the shelter of his arms, and Abe offered him a forkful of cheesecake. Mihashi’s lips twisted, like he was trying not to smile, and he leaned forward and let Abe feed him the cheesecake before hiding his face in his arms again.

“It’s good, right?”

Mihashi nodded, then sighed, pushing himself up and covering his face with his hands. “Every week she says. ‘Should have roomed with Abe-kun.’”

Abe chuckled. “Only because I’m boring.”

“Not boring!” Mihashi protested.

Abe grunted, offering him another bite. “Okay, because she knows I spend my Saturday nights with my face in a book or watching a baseball game, while Yuu is probably in a club somewhere doing body shots.” Mihashi wrinkled his nose, but he didn’t have much room to argue. Especially because, judging from their Sunday morning practices, Mihashi sometimes got dragged along with him. “You know, my mom says the same thing, though. That I should have roomed with you,” he said, letting the tines of his fork rest thoughtfully on his lower lip. “‘He knows how to cook, and he can stand to be around you. Where else are you going to find someone like that?’” he said, putting on his best mom voice. Mihashi snorted, and Abe shook his head. “She doesn’t worry about the city, but she’s convinced I’m going to burn my building down trying to cook for myself.”

“I’m too messy, though,” Mihashi said. “You’d get mad.”

Abe shrugged. “I’m not as neat as you think I am. But I’m sure you don’t want to play housewife for me.”

“I cook for Yuu,” Mihashi said. “I like to cook.”

The tone in Mihashi’s voice gave him pause, like they’d somehow crossed a line from our-silly-moms into but-could-we-really-live-together. To keep himself from blurting out, _then move in with me, my bed’s big enough for both of us_ , he said, “Good thing, too, or I think Yuu might _actually_ burn your apartment down.”

Mihashi huffed. “He’s not _that_ bad.”

“No, I know,” Abe said. “I’m mostly teasing. But you know he’d be late to practice a _lot_ more often if you two weren’t living together.”

Mihashi wrinkled his nose. “And I’d probably never leave my room. For anything _but_ practice.”

“I take it you don’t mind being his shadow, then.”

Mihashi shook his head. “Yuu makes it easy to forget. To be scared, or shy, or. Like. When I’m with him, I don’t have to be so…me.”

Abe nodded. “He sort of has that effect on people, doesn’t he? Like, with Tajima Yuuichirou on your side, you’re unstoppable.” He shook his head. “I’m lucky you didn’t think he was a better catcher than me or I’d have spent three years on the bench.” Mihashi looked genuinely perplexed, and Abe said, “You two communicated better the first game you played together than we did our whole first year.”

“But he’s not you.”

“Ah,” he said, ducking his head, “most people would say that’s a good thing.”

“Taka.” Abe looked up. Mihashi speared the last bite of cheesecake on his fork and held it out to him. Abe grinned and shook his head, but leaned across the table and let Mihashi feed him. “Better?”

Abe hummed affirmatively, settling back in his chair.

“I think,” Mihashi said carefully. “Yuu makes me… Nn, he pushes? He makes the world… bigger, and.” He shook his head, setting his fork down on the plate and folding his arms across his chest. “I forget to be small, with him, but you.” He chewed his lip. “Since the day we met, you’ve seen what I could be, and. You’ve helped me see it, too, and. Helped me _be_. More. Than I was. Than I ever thought…” He stopped, shook his head, fixed his gaze on the tea candle in the center of the table. “Yuu has always made me feel safe, but. You’ve made me strong, Taka.”

“I…” Shit. He was never going to get used to the way Mihashi just _said_ things like that. He ducked his head, blinked firmly, rubbed his nose, sniffed. “Ren, you’ve always been strong. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. I’m just the asshole that got lucky enough to be standing next to you when you really started to shine.”

“That’s not-!” Mihashi’s phone started buzzing loudly on the table, and he huffed, frustrated, and picked it up like he was going to turn it off, or maybe throw it. When he looked at the screen, though, his expression shifted instantly into confusion, then worry. He put the phone to his ear. “Yuu? What’s wrong?” Worry bled into relief, then something else that Abe couldn’t quite read. “Yeah, it’s fine. Just. Yeah, I’ll. Okay. Text me when you get here.”

“What’s going on?”

“Should have left my phone at home,” Mihashi muttered, tossing his phone back on the table. He pressed his hands to his face, rubbing his eyes, then leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. “Yuu was going to. Nn, he and Azusa got in a fight, and. Yuu stormed out. Without his keys. Or wallet. He’s in a cab and can’t pay, or get into the apartment.”

“Jesus. So he’s coming here?”

Mihashi rubbed his forehead, nodding, “For my keys. And cab fare. Sorry.”

“No, it’s… Fine. Does this happen often?”

Mihashi gave a noncommittal bob of his head, halfway between a no and a yes. “More, lately. Because our lease.” Abe tilted his head in question, and Mihashi clarified, “Yuu wants to stay with me, but Azusa.”

“Wants to make the leap. Move in together.” Mihashi nodded, and Abe said, “I’m honestly still surprised they didn’t move in together after we graduated.”

Mihashi rolled his eyes and slumped back in his chair. “‘We have to figure out how to live on our own before we settle in as a couple,’” he said. The imitation wasn’t person-specific, but he said it with the weight of words that had been repeated half to death. “They want the same thing, but they can’t see.”

“What do you mean?”

Mihashi pulled a face, full of distaste but considering. After a moment, he said, “Azusa has a Plan.” He shifted to his gruff Hanai voice, ticking off items with little chops against his palm. “Degree. Job. House. Dog. Kids. Retirement. He wants to… settle? But Yuu doesn’t know. If he’ll go pro, or coach, or,” he shrugged. “He wants to have fun. ‘Live in the moment.’ Azusa thinks he’s not serious. Or.” He wrinkled his nose. “Cheating, but Yuu is just. Scared, I think. Of stopping. Not with Azusa, but. Like. Azusa wants to start, together, but for Yuu it means something has to end, I think. Azusa wants it now, but Yuu has too much to do before he…stops?”

“Probably doesn’t help that Yuu is getting scouted before Hanai’s even started his student teaching.” Mihashi hummed, agreeing, and Abe frowned. “You think they’ll pull through it?”

Mihashi gave a small shrug. “I hope so.”

“Yeah, me too,” Abe said. He shook his head, “At least he waited until after dessert to realize he was wearing the wrong pants?”

Mihashi let out a tired laugh. “At least he’s _wearing_ pants.”

Abe laughed, covering his mouth with a hand. “God, I wish that was a joke. I do _not_ miss being responsible for getting him home with his clothes on.”

Mihashi tittered. “Or in his _own_ clothes. One time I found him on the sofa. In the morning? Wearing a really cute sundress.”

“Seriously?” Abe asked. He saw the waitress coming toward them over Mihashi’s shoulder and started fishing his wallet out of his pocket.

Mihashi’s face squinched up with laughter and he nodded. “It had, uhm, little sunflowers? And a big bow, and. We never figured out where it came from.” Abe slipped his card out of his wallet and passed it to the waitress before she had a chance to give him the bill – and before Mihashi had a chance to object. Mihashi only realized what he’d done as the waitress was walking away, and he squawked, “Taka! You didn’t have to pay for me, too!”

Abe laughed as Mihashi reached across the table to swat his arm. “I _told_ you I was going to take you out to dinner to celebrate. It’s not ‘my treat’ if I let you pay, now is it?”

Mihashi crossed his arms over his chest, cheeks pink and puffed out in a pout.

Abe reached across the table and poked Mihashi’s cheek, deflating it. “Don’t sulk. You worked really hard, and I’m proud of you.”

Mihashi huffed. “I wanted to thank you. For tutoring me, and.” His face twisted, like his words were getting tangled up in his mouth. “I’d. Maybe. If. We could. If you. Wanted, I mean, we. N-next time, I-”

He was almost on the cusp of spitting out whatever it was he was trying to say when the waitress breezed back next to the table, and Mihashi snapped shut like a startled clam. Abe was going to murder her. “Just need your autograph, and you’re all set,” she said, setting his card, the receipt, and a pen on the table in front of him.

“Thanks,” Abe said, giving her a tight smile.

Instead of leaving, she leaned over the table and whispered conspiratorially, “I just have to say, you two make _such_ a cute couple.”

Oh, god. His stomach bottomed out. It was too close to the truth to laugh off, but not quite true enough to roll with. What was he supposed to say to that? Thank you? Mihashi looked horrified, like he was about to either spontaneously combust or self-immolate, whichever would get him out of the conversation faster. “Uh, we’re not,” he heard himself saying. What weren’t they? What _were_ they? And why this, why _now_? “We aren’t… together. Like that.”

“Oh, of course not,” she said, then gave them both an exaggerated wink before walking away.

Abe breathed out slowly through his nose. “Ren, I-”

“No, it’s-!” Mihashi’s phone buzzed, and he grabbed it like a lifeline. “Yuu is. I should.” He pointed at the door.

“Yeah,” Abe said, standing awkwardly with him, “yeah, don’t keep him waiting. Don’t want to run up the meter any more than he already has.”

“I’ll, uhm. Practice? Tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Abe said. “I’ll see you then. Text me when you get home?” Mihashi nodded, and they exchanged a brief, stiff hug, and then Mihashi was gone, worming his way out between the close-packed tables like he was being chased.

Abe slumped back to his seat and let his forehead thunk against the edge of the table. After a long minute of wallowing in his own idiocy and skin-tingling embarrassment, he patted a hand around on the table until he found his phone.

> Me: Motoki I need a favor

It took a minute.

> Haruna: I’m not bringing you condoms at 10 at night.
> 
> Me: I need you to come to the restaurant
> 
> Haruna: You need a ride home?
> 
> Me: No
> 
> Me: I just need you to drive up to the restaurant
> 
> Haruna: What?
> 
> Me: And when you see someone standing in the middle of the street
> 
> Me: Just accelerate
> 
> Me: Just fucking mow me down
> 
> Me: Please
> 
> Haruna: Dude, you’re freaking me out.
> 
> Haruna: Wtf happened?
> 
> Me: I think I just accidentally friendzoned the love of my life because a waitress said we looked cute together and I choked
> 
> Haruna: Jesus Christ, you’re a disaster.
> 
> Me: Will you do it?
> 
> Haruna: Do what?
> 
> Me: Run me over with your car
> 
> Haruna: I’m not going to commit vehicular manslaughter just because you put your foot in your mouth
> 
> Me: Assisted suicide*
> 
> Haruna: Just stay where you are, okay?
> 
> Haruna: You’re not really suicidal, are you?
> 
> Me: No
> 
> Me: I just hate myself
> 
> Haruna: Order some shots of baijiu
> 
> Haruna: I’ll be there in 10

* * *

Haruna Motoki was a good friend, and after few more pints of beer and three rounds of shots, Abe was overcome with the need to tell him so. “I just. I used to think you were such an _asshole_ ,” he said, leaning heavily on Haruna’s shoulder. “But you’re not. You’re not an asshole, you’re- you’re nice. You’re _so_ nice.” He patted Haruna’s cheek, affectionately. Haruna took his hand and put it back on the bartop, and it looked really comfortable, there, so Abe laid his head on top of it. “Why’re you so nice to me?”

“At risk of you remembering me saying this in the morning? Because you’re still the only person who stands by me when I’m at my worst. Even if you hate me for it.”

Abe blinked idly at Haruna’s elbow. “I don’t hate you anymore.” Haruna grunted, and Abe rolled his head to one side, looking up at him. “Motoki, how do you tell your best friend that you’re in love with him?”

Haruna sighed. “If you’re me, and you’re 17, and you just found out that he’s planning on going to college on the other side of the country, you cry into a gallon of ice cream until you realize that, huh, oh, you actually _are_ gay, probably, and what you need to do is make a _statement_ , and you show up at his house at three in the morning with a fuckin’ thrift store boom box playing that song, you know? Cuz it worked in the movie, right, and movies never lie.”

Abe rubbed his nose. “Did it work?”

“Fuck no. He slept through the whole thing, and his mom kicked my ass up and down the street and threatened to call the cops on me.”

“How did you tell him, then?”

“I didn’t. I was so embarrassed I stayed home from school the next day, and I probably would have wallowed in self pity for a week except that he showed up at my house that night. When I opened the door, he shoved a bunch of papers at me, told me I was a fucking idiot, that he’d been in love with me since we were five, and said, ‘I’ll follow you anywhere, but you have to ask me to.’”

“What were the papers?”

“The homework I’d missed, notes from all my classes, and his acceptance letters to half the schools in the city.” He took a slow sip of his beer. “He never planned on leaving me behind. He was just waiting for me to tell him I wanted him to come with me. I never even considered that he _wouldn’t_ until it was almost too late. I’ve made a point not to take him for granted ever since.”

“I’m so afraid of that,” Abe said. “That Mihashi doesn’t know how important he is to me, or that I don’t tell him enough, or in a way he understands.” His chest felt tight, and his eyes stung. He huffed in air. “He still has no idea how good he is. How smart, and talented, and beautiful he is, or how happy he’s made me. And I’m so afraid of fucking that up, what we have. Cuz I’m so happy just being his friend. I mean, I’d fuck him into next week if that was what he wanted, but I feel lucky to just be in the same place as him, you know? And I don’t want to lose that, I don’t want to lose the right to stand in his light just because I want to touch him. My mom jokes like we’re already married. But I don’t want to fuck it up by pointing it out, you know? I don’t want to make it weird.”

“He probably doesn’t, either. But sometimes you’ve just gotta say the obvious thing, acknowledge the elephant in the room, put yourself out there. And Ren isn’t going to be the one to do it.”

Abe groaned. “God, but what if it’s all in my head? What if it’s just me? When he left tonight, it was so _awkward_. Like, you know when cats like… bend unnaturally to keep you from touching them? Like just fuckin’ dodge you like nope, bye. It was like that when I hugged him.”

“From what you told me, it seems like he was probably just as freaked out by the ill-defined nature of your evening as you were.”

“I should call him,” Abe mumbled. “Apologize.”

“Not tonight, you shouldn’t.”

“But what if-”

“Taka, you’re drunk. You’ll make it worse. You don’t want to make it worse, do you?”

“No,” he admitted. Then, “I want to kiss him.”

“You’ve mentioned.”

“He’s so beautiful, Motoki. You should have seen him tonight. His stupid pants-”

“Okay, buddy. I love you, and I’m here for you, but if you tell me how great his ass looked in those pants again, I’m leaving. And this time I mean it.”

Abe nodded, solemnly, until he wasn’t quite sure why he was doing it. He tried to remember, and latched onto the first stray thought that felt like it made sense. “I never really thought about coming out to anyone but you.”

He felt the weight of Haruna’s attention shift onto him. “You’ve never told anyone else?”

“It didn’t go so good the first time,” he muttered, kicking limply at Haruna’s foot. “Besides, who would I tell? An’ what’s the point? But if Ren and I… it would matter.”

“Yeah, it would matter.”

“It’s hard, right? Telling people?”

Haruna made a thoughtful sound. “Once you decide it matters, every single person in your life gets a scale, and you have to figure out: is it harder to tell them, not knowing how they’ll react, or harder to not tell them, and always have a secret you’re keeping from them.”

“That sounds awful.”

“Mm. But it feels good, when you tell the right people.”

“‘m glad I told you, even if it fucked things up for a while.”

“Yeah, and I’m sorry I was such a shithead about it.”

Abe breathed out a laugh. “If you were my gay awakening, Ren is my gay insomnia.”

“Alright, Taka, come on. We’re gonna get you home before you start making jokes about him keeping you up all night.”

Abe giggled breathlessly as Haruna hoisted him up off his barstool. “That’s a good one.”

* * *

They stumbled through Abe’s apartment in the dark, kicking over a stack of books and tripping on a basket of laundry before Haruna dumped Abe face down on his bed. “Jesus, you’re heavy,” he muttered. Abe slid his arms around his pillow and hugged it against his face. It felt like a warm cloud. Some time passed, probably, and then there was a weight on the side of his bed. “Come on, sit up.” It took a minute, but Haruna got him to drink a glass of water and take some painkillers.

He wound up slumped against Haruna’s chest, with Haruna’s chin rested on top of his head. “I think you and Ren are going to be fine,” he said, rubbing Abe’s back. “Just pull him aside tomorrow after practice and tell him how you feel. Okay?” Abe nodded. “Okay,” Haruna said, lowering him back into bed and pulling the covers up around his chin. “I walked your dog around the block and set out fresh water for her, so she won’t pee on your carpet. I’m going to go home now, but call me if you need me, okay?” Abe bobbed a nod. “And don’t call him tonight. Okay?”

Abe gave another limp nod, and Haruna snapped his fingers close to his face, making him blink his eyes open. Abe nodded again, more surely, and said, “Okay.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“Good. Now get some sleep.”

He was already halfway there, but when he felt Haruna’s weight leave the bed, he flung out an arm, reaching blindly for him, and said, “Text me when you get home. So I know you’re safe.”

Haruna breathed out a soft laugh. “Sure thing.”

* * *

When Abe blinked awake an hour or so later, he was still drunk, had awful dry mouth, and felt like his bladder was about to explode. He dragged himself out of bed and drank the water Haruna had left on the nightstand for him, then took the cup with him as he shuffled to the bathroom, leaning heavily on his walls. He peed in the dark, changed into his pajamas, splashed water on his face, brushed his teeth, drank two more glasses of water, and refilled the cup before dragging himself back to bed and collapsing onto it.

His phone was on the nightstand next to where Haruna had left the glass (and a bottle of ibuprofen), and he flipped on the screen to check the time.

He had one missed text: _Home safe_

It made him swell with relief, eyes prickling with tears, and he started typing out a response, face half buried in his pillow.

> Me: I'm glad
> 
> Me: I'm so glad
> 
> Me: I’m so glad you’re safe
> 
> Me: I worry, you know
> 
> Me: I mean you probably don't know
> 
> Me: I try not to let people know
> 
> Me: Because it's stupid
> 
> Me: I know it's stupid
> 
> Me: But I'm so afraid that something will happen to someone I love when I'm not looking
> 
> Me: Like I'll wake up one morning and someone will be hurt, or dead, and I will have slept through it happening and not been there and someone will have to tell me
> 
> Me: It's stupid
> 
> Me: I know it’s stupid
> 
> Me: But it's the worst with Ren
> 
> Me: Like every time he leaves I get this awful cold fear in my gut like
> 
> Me: What if I never see him again?
> 
> Me: What if I never get to tell him how I feel?
> 
> Me: What if he never realizes how much I love him?
> 
> Me: But I still can't say it
> 
> Me: No matter how many times I almost go after him and pull him back and kiss him and tell him how important he is
> 
> Me: How perfect he is
> 
> Me: I just worry and wait for him to get home
> 
> Me: God that's pathetic
> 
> Me: I'm so pathetic
> 
> Me: Do you think he knows?
> 
> Me: God, I wish I knew how to tell him
> 
> Me: I'm sorry for dragging you out there tonight and making you babysit my drunk, pathetic ass
> 
> Me: And I'm glad you made it home okay because god can you imagine
> 
> Me: If you
> 
> Me: Because of me
> 
> Me: No
> 
> Me: Fuck
> 
> Me: I'm just
> 
> Me: You're fine
> 
> Me: It's fine
> 
> Me: That's the point, it's fine
> 
> Me: And tomorrow I'm going to take your advice and I'm gonna
> 
> Me: Fuck
> 
> Me: I don't know
> 
> Me: Tell him I guess
> 
> Me: Tell him he's like the sun
> 
> Me: Tell him how beautiful he looks in the afternoon when the light hits him just right and makes him glow
> 
> Me: How much I love his laugh, and his smile
> 
> Me: God how it still just wrecks me every time he smiles and it's for me
> 
> Me: Like a baby kitten getting its wings
> 
> Me: How beautiful his hands are and how I love the way they move when he talks, almost like sign language but it's just him, shaping the air around his words
> 
> Me: How I want to kiss his fingertips
> 
> Me: How I wish he didn't have to leave and I could just keep him close all the time
> 
> Me: How much I wish I could just be in his arms
> 
> Me: He's so warm, Motoki
> 
> Me: Not like sweaty
> 
> Me: But like
> 
> Me: Blankets
> 
> Me: Like warm blankets and sunshine and he smells so good and his hair is so soft and beautiful and golden and I want to kiss him more than just about anything
> 
> Me: I want to touch his beautiful, perfect skin and hold him and have it not be weird
> 
> Me: God I hope he doesn't think I'm weird
> 
> Me: I just, god
> 
> Me: I'm so stupid and gay
> 
> Me: I'm so in love with Mihashi Ren
> 
> Me: Even my dog is in love with him
> 
> Me: She
> 
> Me: Look

He rolled onto his side and pointed his phone at the little bundle of fur and fabric, where his French bulldog was sleeping by his closet and took a picture. The picture didn’t turn out great, in the dark, so he slid off the edge of the bed to take a better one from the floor.

> Me: That's his sweatshirt
> 
> Me: That she's sleeping on
> 
> Me: He left it here like six months ago and I have to hide it every time he comes over
> 
> Me: Because she sleeps on it all the time
> 
> Me: She drags it around the house to cuddle with it
> 
> Me: She steals his socks
> 
> Me: I have like eight pairs of his socks because she's built a Ren-nest to sleep in
> 
> Me: And when he's here she cuddles in his lap and tucks her face against his arm and it's probably not healthy to be this jealous of a dog
> 
> Me: But like if your pet likes someone that's good right?
> 
> Me: Like animals are a good judge of character?

He reached out and stroked his dog’s head, then snapped and sent a few more pictures of her when she rolled over in her sleep.

 After a minute, he slumped over, resting his head on the sweatshirt next to his dog. He felt so heavy.

> Me: Ren would make a good dog dad
> 
> Me: He'd make a good dad dad
> 
> Me: I want to eat breakfast with him
> 
> Me: Like be there when he's just woken up and still tired and rumpled and soft and warm and we could drink coffee in our pajamas
> 
> Me: I see him every day but I miss him all the time
> 
> Me: It doesn't even make sense
> 
> Me: Like if he's not standing right next to me it feels like something's missing
> 
> Me: And I love him
> 
> Me: I love him so much
> 
> Me: I've loved him for so, so long
> 
> Me: He has no idea what a miserable piece of crap I would be if I'd never met him
> 
> Me: I was so angry, and lonely, and miserable, and messed up when we met
> 
> Me: He still thinks that I fixed him, or some ridiculous bullshit, but he has no idea that he saved me from myself
> 
> Me: I don't blame you anymore but Ren was the reason I started being able to let go and trust again
> 
> Me: To trust MYSELF again
> 
> Me: And to realize that I couldn't control everything, no matter how badly I wanted to, and that that was okay
> 
> Me: He's been my partner for so long
> 
> Me: Better than a best friend, and fuck if I can't count people who are more than an acquaintance on one hand
> 
> Me: Even the guys from the team
> 
> Me: Even the guys from high school
> 
> Me: I'm barely fit for human companionship
> 
> Me: But for some reason this beautiful, perfect man thinks that I'm worth something

He let that thought settle inside him, a little ball of warmth in the center of his chest.

> Me: God I have to tell him
> 
> Me: I hope it doesn't make him hate me
> 
> Me: I’m afraid of that more than anything
> 
> Me: That I'll repulse him
> 
> Me: That I'll lose him
> 
> Me: I don't know what I'd do if I lost him
> 
> Me: He's like the one constant thing in my life
> 
> Me: And I don't
> 
> Me: Fuck
> 
> Me: But it's better to know, right? Get it out there, like you said, and hope you're right and that he feels the same way and is just
> 
> Me: As stupid as I am, I guess.
> 
> Me: As scared
> 
> Me: God, what if he's scared of losing me, too?
> 
> Me: I hope he knows he could never lose me
> 
> Me: I hope he knows that I think he's perfect

His dog stirred in her sleep, nuzzling and licking at his face, and he picked her up – sweatshirt and stray socks and all – and carried her back to bed with him, flopping onto his side and setting her down in the shelter of his body. He flipped his phone back on and skimmed through the messages he’d sent, then groaned.

> Me: I'm sorry for blowing up your phone
> 
> Me: I'm drunk
> 
> Me: And tired
> 
> Me: And a fucking maudlin asshole
> 
> Me: I'm glad you got home safe
> 
> Me: Sorry for gay feelings vomit 2.0
> 
> Me: And thanks for looking after me tonight
> 
> Me: If you hadn't been there to stop me I probably would have done something stupid
> 
> Me: Like stand outside his house with a boom box playing In Your Eyes
> 
> Me: Or like said all this to him like an asshole
> 
> Me: PS your worst isn't as bad as you think, and I'm always here if you need me
> 
> Me: I definitely owe you one
> 
> Me: Thanks, Motoki

He started to put his phone back on the nightstand, then hesitated and started typing again.

> Me: If the pool's open and I haven't tanked the most important relationship in my life by then, we should do laps after practice tomorrow
> 
> Me: Maybe laps and then heavy drinking if it goes poorly
> 
> Me: Or heavy drinking and then sad, drunken push-ups until I pass out
> 
> Me: Okay
> 
> Me: Going to sleep now
> 
> Me: Thanks again
> 
> Me: Goodnight

* * *

When Abe woke up the next morning, he wasn’t nearly as hung over as he expected to be. Haruna had apparently managed to pace him pretty well, despite how much they’d both had to drink. He needed to buy him a thank you card, or a gift basket, or something. That was how you apologized to someone for getting shitfaced and crying on them in public and then drunk texting them for an hour in the middle of the night, right?

God, he was a mess.

He took two ibuprofen and drank the glass of water on his nightstand, then grabbed his phone and dragged himself out of bed, scrubbing at his eyes as he stumbled into the kitchen. He dumped kibble into his dog’s dish, opened the door to his balcony for her, turned on his coffee machine, and shuffled into the bathroom.

He’d just gotten out of the shower and dressed and was in the middle of brushing his teeth when his phone pinged on the counter. He picked it up to look at the screen.

> Haruna: Sorry I didn’t text you when I got home last night

His heart stopped. His phone buzzed.

> Haruna: You were pretty out of it, and I wanted to let you sleep, but so you don’t freak out when you wake up: I’m fine

He unlocked his phone and scrolled through their texts, but between “I’ll be there in 10” and “Sorry I didn’t text” there was nothing. But he distinctly remembered-

He backed out of their texts and opened the next most recent ones and started scrolling through the messages he’d sent the night before. Up and up and up all the way to:

> Ren (10:42 PM): Home safe

He wound up sitting on the floor, somehow, heart pounding and hands shaking. There was no response, but his very last message had a little check mark next to it: Read: 11:23 AM.

> Me: Motoki I fucked up
> 
> Me: I accidentally sent him more than a hundred texts last night
> 
> Me: and a bunch of blurry pictures of my dog
> 
> Me: What have I done?

A full minute later, his phone buzzed.

> Haruna: Dude, I want to say something reassuring, but I’ve got nothing.
> 
> Haruna: Fucking just change your name
> 
> Haruna: Flee the country
> 
> Haruna: I’ve SEEN your drunk texts
> 
> Me: He already read them
> 
> Me: I can’t even break into his house and steal his phone and delete them
> 
> Me: But he hasn’t said anything?
> 
> Me: What do I do?
> 
> Me: MOTOKI WHAT DO I DO
> 
> Haruna: At least you don’t have to tell him face to face?
> 
> Me: I TOLD HIM HE’D MAKE A GREAT DAD MOTOKI
> 
> Me: WHAT THE FUCK AM I GOING TO DO
> 
> Me: I SAID HIS SMILE IS LIKE A KITTEN GETTING ITS WINGS
> 
> Me: WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT EVEN MEAN
> 
> Haruna: Send me the chat log
> 
> Haruna: I’m going to go make some popcorn

This wasn’t helping. He dragged himself to his feet and spit toothpaste into the sink. Dried off his face and marched out into the living room, pacing in front of his coffee table, phone in his hands, trying to formulate an apology that encompassed the full depth and volume of his accidental confession. Five minutes later, he’d managed to type _Ren,_

His doorbell rang, and he startled so badly he almost dropped his phone. What the hell? It was a little early for the mail, and he wasn’t expecting any packages – and certainly not company. He shoved his phone in his pocket and crossed the room to open the door.

He found Mihashi standing on his doorstep, red in the face and breathing hard, wearing his pink running shorts and a butter yellow boat-neck t-shirt that was two sizes too big and slipping off one shoulder. He looked like he’d run all the way here. “Ren, wh-”

Mihashi pushed in through the doorway and pulled Abe down into a kiss.

Abe sucked in a breath and went rigid. By the time he started to comprehend that this was an actual thing that was actually happening, Mihashi had already started to pull away, a little flicker of doubt in his wide gold eyes, and that, _that_ was unacceptable. He slid his hand around the nape of Mihashi’s neck, catching him and pulling him back into a kiss.

Mihashi’s lips were so, so soft, his skin hot and flushed, his hair just barely damp with sweat beneath Abe’s fingertips. Abe made a quiet, helpless sound against Mihashi’s mouth, pushing his hand against his front door and shoving it closed, and Mihashi looped his arms around Abe’s neck and tangled his hands in his hair, clinging to him like he was afraid he’d disappear. Abe slid his arm around Mihashi’s waist, drawing him close and letting his kisses wander, to the corner of Mihashi’s mouth, his cheek, his jaw, the soft spot behind his ear, each press of his lips a reassurance that Mihashi was solid and real and _here_ , with him, holding him, kissing him, until they were just standing in his living room wrapped up in each other’s arms, his face buried in Mihashi’s hair, Mihashi’s face hidden against his neck.

“I got your texts,” Mihashi said, breathless against his skin.

Abe closed his eyes. “They weren’t supposed to be for you.”

“Yes they were,” Mihashi said.

Abe drew back to look at his face, searching. “You’re not mad?”

Mihashi shook his head and pulled him down, kissing him again, gently, tender little pecks that sent shivers racing down Abe’s spine. “I’m happy,” he said between kisses. “So happy.”

“Don’t laugh at me, okay?” Abe murmured. Mihashi blinked up at him, curious, but Abe wrapped his arms around Mihashi’s head and murmured down into his hair. “I really like you, Ren. Will you go out with me?”

He expected at least a giggle, some taunt or tease for the relative understatement of a formal confession after everything he’d said the night before, for the need to label whatever this was and make it official while they were still standing, dazed, in the middle of his living room. But it didn’t come. Mihashi carded his fingers through Abe’s hair, drawing him back and looking up into his eyes, rosy-cheeked and smiling brilliantly. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that since I was sixteen.”

The words hit him like a tidal wave, rushing through him and sweeping away all the fear and doubt and caution. He cupped Mihashi’s face in his hands and kissed him again, fierce and desperate, with the weight of all the times he’d wanted to and all the times he’d held back. Mihashi’s lips parted on a moan, and Abe had absolutely no idea what he was doing, but the sweet heat of his mouth felt like an invitation, and he licked gently into it, and apparently that was good, because Mihashi surged into him, kissing him back and biting his lips, gripping his hair almost hard enough to hurt. He wanted to pick him up, to hold him, to touch every inch of him, to _kiss_ every inch of him, but before he could even start to sort through the dizzy laundry list of wants, Mihashi drew back with a gasp. “You’re too tall,” he said, breathless.

“What?”

But Mihashi was already cutting his gaze around Abe’s scantly-furnished studio, calculating. Abe’s mouth started slowly forming a question, and Mihashi answered by fisting a hand in the front of Abe’s tank top and pulling him across the room toward…

…toward his bed. Abe’s brain stuttered to a halt and his feet stopped moving right, but when he slowed enough to offer a little resistance, Mihashi turned and caught Abe’s face gently in his hands, meeting his wide-eyes. “Just kissing,” he said.

“Okay.”

“Clothes on,” he said, stepping back until his legs were backed against the edge of the bed. Abe nodded dumbly. “Is it… Touching okay?”

“Yeah,” Abe said breathlessly as Mihashi laid himself out in his bed, pulling him down with him. He knelt on the edge of his bed, one knee between Mihashi’s legs. “Touching is okay.” Mihashi bit back a smile, trapping his lower lip between his teeth. It made him look impossibly wicked. “Am I dreaming?” Mihashi gave a small shake of his head, and that was enough. Abe leaned down over him and kissed him.

* * *

Despite what they’d said, Abe had lost his shirt at some point, and Mihashi’s was only still on him as a technicality, pushed up to bare his stomach so Abe could grip the lean dip of his waist while they kissed, languid and gentle, their feet tangled together under the sheets. As it turned out, they had a lot of kissing to make up for.

When an alarm buzzed on the phone in Abe’s pocket, his lips curled into a slow smile against Mihashi’s mouth. “We’re going to miss practice.”

“Mmm, told Yuu to say we got sick. At dinner.”

Abe laughed, a low rumbling chuckle, and he pressed his forehead to Mihashi’s cheek. “I take it he knows?”

Mihashi hummed affirmatively, trailing fingertips down along Abe’s spine. “After last night, I was scared. To look at my phone? I thought…” he gave a small shake of his head. “So we went jogging, and. When we got back, I made Yuu look, and. He said.” He could hear the laughter and pleasure in Mihashi’s voice, “A hundred and twenty eight unread messages.”

Abe groaned, hiding his face in Mihashi’s neck. “He didn’t read them, did he?”

“No, no, I. No, I didn’t let him.”

“Did you really run all the way here after you read them?”

Mihashi gave a small nod. “I couldn’t… I didn’t know how to tell you. With words.”

“I understand,” Abe said, pressing a soft kiss to the underside of Mihashi’s jaw. “I don’t think I would have believed it if you hadn’t been here. This still feels like a dream.”

Mihashi slid his hand down and gave Abe’s butt a sharp pinch. Abe yelped, wiggling closer to him, and Mihashi said, sternly, “Not a dream.”

“I know it’s not,” Abe said, giving Mihashi’s neck a reprimanding nip. “But I never, ever thought this would really happen.”

“But _why_?” Mihashi said, genuine frustration in his voice.

Abe made a face. “I didn’t even know if you liked guys.”

Mihashi pulled Abe’s head back, looking down into his face. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” he said, a little defensive. “Look, I haven’t trusted my gay-dar since I was like thirteen, and you never said anything, either.”

Mihashi groaned, resting his forehead against Abe’s. “Taka, I go to gay bars with Yuu every weekend. We go to clubs. To dance. With each other. I’ve _invited_ you.”

Abe felt his face heating up. “I didn’t.” He frowned. “I don’t dance. Or. Talk about it. About me, I mean. Or think about it, if I can help it.”

Mihashi quieted against him, rubbing gentle circles against Abe’s scalp with his fingertips. “Does anyone else know?”

“Just Motoki,” he said. “And Yuu, now, I guess.”

“Sorry.”

He shook his head, “No, it’s. Probably time. And if Motoki is right, it’s probably not much of a secret. After all the heckling the team got about the hand holding and the tickling in high school, I just sort of let all that stuff roll off me.”

“We can take it slow,” Mihashi said.

Abe laughed. “Slow like showing up to the locker room tomorrow with matching hickeys?” He softened his teasing tone by tugging down the wide collar of Mihashi’s shirt and kissing the marks he’d scattered on his skin.

“Okay,” Mihashi said airily, reaching up to curl his fingers in Abe’s hair. “Maybe we should…” He moaned softly – Abe’s new favorite sound – as Abe started sucking on an unmarked patch of skin.

“We should what?” Abe murmured, low and teasing against the wet spot on Mihashi’s neck. Mihashi swatted the back of his head, and Abe laughed. “We’ll figure it out,” he said, sliding his hand up over Mihashi’s ribs, drawing him close.

“Last night,” Mihashi said. “When you said, “excuse,” what did you mean?”

“Hm?”

“About my test?”

“Oh,” Abe said. “I just… that it was a reason to ask you on a date without it sounding too much like a date.”

“Why, though?” Mihashi asked. “Why now?”

“Motoki’s been pushing me to ask you out. Probably because he’s sick of me whining to him about you. He said if I didn’t make my move, I’d miss my chance. That you’d move on, or…” he wrinkled his nose. “End up with Yuu.”

“You finally asked me out,” Mihashi said, barely contained laughter in his voice, “because you were jealous of Yuu?”

“No,” he said, then conceded, “Maybe. Should I be?”

Mihashi laughed, bright and happy. “Taka, no.”

“Nothing secretly going on between you?” He asked, mostly teasing.

Mihashi rolled his eyes. “No. He’s the person _I_ talk to about _you_.” He paused, then amended. “Okay, and he was… my first kiss, but,” he added hastily, “it was supposed to be. Practice. For you, and. Azusa. A long time ago. So don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad,” Abe said, settling in against Mihashi’s side. “The first person I kissed was Motoki, and he reacted so badly I… Like I said, threw out my gay-dar.”

Mihashi frowned. “What happened?”

Abe shrugged. “I confessed to him my second year of middle school. He thought I was joking, so I kissed him. Mostly to make him stop laughing at me.”

“What did he do?”

Abe’s lips curled into a small smile. “He ran away and avoided me for days. Made little mocking kissy lips at me when people weren’t looking pretty much until he graduated. At the time, I was furious, and embarrassed, and hated him for it, but… he never told anyone, and wasn’t nearly as cruel about it as he could have been.”

“That…” Mihashi said thoughtfully, “…explains a lot.”

“Like the bulk of my anger and trust issues in high school, and the big gay chip on my shoulder?”

Mihashi giggled. “Why you two have always been so…” Abe raised an eyebrow, and Mihashi shook his head. “When you two. When he came back, this time, I thought maybe. _I’d_ missed _my_ chance?”

It took Abe a second, but when he got it, he laughed. “You thought Motoki and I?”

Mihashi huffed. “You have… chemistry.”

“If by that you mean we’re volatile together,” Abe said, then shook his head. “No, Motoki is happily taken and… we make better friends than partners.” He trailed his fingers lightly down along Mihashi’s side. “You’re the only person I’ve been interested in like that in a long time.”

Mihashi smiled. “Me too.”

“Even Yuu?”

Mihashi rolled his eyes and laughed. “Taka, you _know_ he only has eyes for Azusa, and. He’s my friend, that’s all. Besides, he’s not my type.”

“Oh? What’s your type?” Mihashi arched an eyebrow, then gave Abe a slow once over, head to toe, surveying the terrain of his chest and then undressing the rest of him with his eyes. Abe blushed down to his chest, then reached up and put his hand over Mihashi’s eyes. “Don’t do that. That’s cheating.” Mihashi grinned and laughed, low and sultry, and Abe pressed his other hand to Mihashi’s mouth. “That’s cheating, too.” Mihashi pressed soft kisses to Abe’s palm, and Abe sighed, uncovering Mihashi’s eyes and running a hand back through his hair. “I can’t wrap my head around anyone looking at me like that, least of all you.”

“Why not?” Mihashi asked, voice slightly muffled by Abe’s hand.

“I dunno. I’m just me. A slightly doughy baseball player. I’m nothing special.”

Mihashi looked incredulous. “Taka,” he said, sounding ready to lecture him. Abe looked up at him expectantly, but instead of scolding him, Mihashi slung an arm low around his waist, slipped a hand in Abe’s back pocket, and stole his phone. Before he had a chance to react, Mihashi had pushed him onto his back and pinned him down, sitting on his hips.

“What are you-” The shutter on the phone’s camera clicked, and Abe went wide eyed and tried to snatch the phone back out of Mihashi’s hands. Mihashi laughed, dodging out of the way and taking another picture. Abe groaned, “Ren, don’t.”

“Gonna make you see what I see,” he said, snapping another picture. Mihashi had the upper hand; he was lean but strong, and short of physically throwing him off him or tackling him back into bed, there wasn’t much he could do to stop him. Abe groaned again, covering his eyes with his hand, then when the shutter snaps didn’t stop, he ran his hand down his face and gave Mihashi a pleading look. “Don’t move.”

“You know I hate having my picture taken,” he said, watching Mihashi skeptically as he slid off him and onto the other side of the bed and snapped one last picture.

“Only because you don’t know how pretty you are,” Mihashi said. He held out the phone, offering it to Abe, then drew it back when he reached for it. “Don’t delete it. Please?”

“I won’t,” he said. Mihashi handed him the phone, then crawled closer to him to peer at the phone screen upside down while he looked at it. And, okay, Mihashi was…not a terrible photographer. Splayed out on the bed, bare-chested and rumpled, one arm folded behind his head and one hand covering his mouth, eyebrow arched, even Abe could admit that he looked… sort of pinup-like. He _had_ put on a lot of muscle in the last year or so, and his hair had dried messily, rumpled in the way only hands and sheets and pillows could pull off, and the trails of bite marks and hickeys on his neck and chest stood out as sharply as his tan lines. “I dunno,” he said, aiming for skeptical but giving it away with a smile, “I don’t think I’d date me.”

“No?” Mihashi asked with a grin.

Abe shook his head, thumbing the screen of his phone.

“Don’t delete it,” Mihashi said again, urgent and pleading.

“I won’t,” he said. “I’m just looking at the rest of them.”

The smile came back, wicked and mischievous. “I thought you didn’t like what you saw.”

“The picture I could take or leave,” he said, angling his phone and glancing up at Mihashi, “but I’m really enjoying the view.” The camera shutter clicked, and Mihashi gasped, scandalized, and wrestled the phone back out of Abe’s hands, but not before he got a look at the picture: Mihashi with his legs tucked under him, leaned forward with his hands spread wide on the bed, hair wild and lips plump and bitten, shirt rumpled and falling off him, looking every inch a predator. “Don’t delete it,” he said, grabbing onto Mihashi but not fighting him for the phone. Instead of trying to wiggle away, Mihashi pulled Abe closer and kissed him, tangling him up with his arms and legs and dragging him down as he let himself fall back into bed. Abe hummed contentedly against Mihashi’s mouth, sliding a hand up under his shirt and settling his weight on top of him, biting gently at his lower lip and-

Click.

Abe broke away from him with a laugh and the camera clicked again. “You’re horrible,” he said, not really complaining, and hid his face in Mihashi’s neck. Mihashi took another picture, and Abe grabbed the ticklish spot on his side, making him squawk and jerk against him, snapping another picture as the phone started to slip from his grip.

Abe tried to take the phone back again, but Mihashi held onto it, not quite playing keep-away this time but definitely not letting it go. “I want to remember,” he said, voice breathless with laughter. “I never want to forget this.”

Abe let Mihashi’s hand go and wrapped his arm around him, holding him tighter. “I know. Me too.”

* * *

Abe was half asleep when his phone started buzzing, cuddled up against Mihashi’s side in a tangle of sheets and a pool of afternoon light, his tiny dog taking up the lower half of the bed so he had to curl up and snuggle close. “Taka,” Mihashi said sleepily, handing him the phone.

He blinked, eyes taking a moment to focus.

> Haruna: Is everything okay?
> 
> Haruna: I’m sorry for laughing at you
> 
> Haruna The radio silence is freaking me out a little
> 
> Haruna: Text me back

He turned the screen to show Mihashi the messages. “What should I tell him?”

Mihashi bit his lip and took the phone from Abe’s hands. After a quiet moment, he handed it back and said, “Send him this.”

“This” was the last picture he’d taken, just slightly blurry and oddly cropped, showing the side of Mihashi’s face scrunched up with surprised laughter, bright and sunny. Abe’s face was half hidden beneath the curve of Mihashi’s jaw, only the curl of his smile showing, open and happy in a way no one ever managed to capture on film.

> Me: Everything’s fine
> 
> Me: Just been a little busy
> 
> Me: Thanks for the push

Mihashi watched, peering over the top of Abe’s head as he typed the messages and sent the picture. When he was done, Mihashi murmured down into his hair, “Send it to Yuu, too.”

> Me: I’ll have him home by 10

Mihashi giggled, and when the message finished sending, Abe silenced his phone and reached over to put it on his nightstand. “Was that okay?” Mihashi asked as Abe settled back in at his side.

“Yeah, it was okay.” He brushed the pad of his thumb gently along Mihashi’s hip. “I’m happy, and I want people to know it.”

“Taka?” Mihashi said quietly. Abe peeked up at him, and Mihashi trailed his fingertips lightly down along his cheek. “I love you.”

Abe flushed, filled with pride and pleasure and relief and hope and affection. He held Mihashi closer. Pressed a kiss to his jaw and then hid his face against his neck and said, softly and just for him, “I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy AbeMiha week everyone! Come cry about baseball boys with me on twitter and tumblr @ theshannonlewis
> 
> (Bonus trivia for anyone who follows me on twitter: that night I had really awful insomnia? I typed out Abe's whole drunken text spew on my phone at 7 in the morning. Realism(TM))


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